


Passion and Strife

by AEpixie7



Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [18]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Also Gabriel and Michael are seriously best friend goals, Banter, Battle as a way of blowing off steam and also working through your issues, Beelzebub/Gabriel and Michael/Dagon are THE SQUAD now, F/F, F/M, Friendship, I don't know how to tag this okay, I might've fallen head over heels for the Dagon/Michael ship in the process of writing this, Michael and Dagon have my whole heart, Sparring, lots of flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22459999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AEpixie7/pseuds/AEpixie7
Summary: Dagon and Michael help Beelzebub and Gabriel spar, in case their relationship is ever discovered. Some hilarity, some feels, some Beelzebub and Michael at each others' throats, and The Dagon and Michael Show hits peak minx status.
Relationships: Beelzebub & Dagon (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Dagon/Michael (Good Omens), Gabriel & Michael (Good Omens), Ligur & Michael (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Bureaucracy [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1437652
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	Passion and Strife

**Author's Note:**

> Alright everyone, I know I received a lot of comments after the last update desperately wanting to know what happened between Dagon and Michael that night. And while I originally planned to write it, I am not entirely confident in my ability to write explicit F/F. I've written it before, but as a part of a M/F/F OT3 quite a while ago. I may still go back and write it, but for now I'm just gonna let your imaginations run wild with it, cuz I don't think I can do it justice. I'm sorry, y'all. :-(
> 
> ***  
> WARNING: This chapter deals with some pretty serious death/loss trauma. Michael is going through some shit. I just didn't want anyone going in to this chapter unprepared for that.

_Gabriel hummed appreciatively in his throat, his body feeling wholly warm and relaxed. There was a comforting weight against him, leaning against his chest and resting in his lap. He could feel feathers of the softest down against his fingertips, and at the same time he felt small hands stroking the underside of his primary wings, the rhythm of their ministrations nearly in sync with his long, slow breaths. He could feel the radiating grace as he cradled six smaller wings against his larger ones, his arms wrapped around a tiny frame. This felt familiar but yet so strange. His soul felt open and exposed, but he could feel the presence of another's mingling with his, inviting him to trust, to cherish that vulnerability and the safety of it all. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, to gaze upon the figure in his arms. He wanted to, more than anything—wanted to look into their eyes, to see the creature whose soul was radiating with such love and devotion, pouring themselves into their touch and making his wings pulse with Heavenly light. He blinked down through the blissful delirium, to where his own fingertips dipped beneath ivory feathers…_

Gabriel drifted awake, his wings aching even in their non-corporeal state. It was a good kind of ache, though—the kind that brought a smile to his lips as he felt that lingering phantom touch. He glanced down to find Beelzebub slowly squirming into consciousness, tucking herself closer against his chest. His heart nearly burst from the ensuing butterflies, and he couldn’t help but lean down and kiss her hair. “Good morning, Bee,” he whispered, and she groaned in response. The sound was gravelly but accompanied by a content little grin of her own, her sky blue eyes finally dragging open from what appeared to have been a peaceful sleep. 

“It izzz morning, I suppose. But whether it's a good one izzz entirely dependent upon if there’s coffee,” she grumbled, her eyes drifting closed once again as she buzzed softly in her throat and cuddled against her angel. He chuckled quietly and carded a hand through her hair, admiring its sheen and how adorably fluffy it had gotten in her sleep. 

“Would you like me to go make you some coffee?” he asked, really hoping she'd say no so he could stay here in quiet serenity with her, but of course she didn’t. She nodded lazily and pulled the sheets almost entirely over her head, making Gabriel laugh as he hauled himself from the bed. He miracled himself a set of sweats and glanced back at the sleepy demon, feeling another swell in his chest much like that feeling of Heavenly grace in his dream. He snuck quietly from the room, entirely unaware that the Prince had just shared the exact same dream. 

He ventured down to the kitchen, the events of the previous night fighting their way through an alcohol-induced fog. _Shit, Michael and Dagon are still here._

Before he could even begin to wonder how to handle guests in the castle (he'd never had guests before, Hell, he'd never had his own _place_ before), he emerged into the kitchen to find Michael standing with her back to him at the large windows overlooking the lake. He wanted to tease her about the events of the previous night, but her energy hit him like a bad fragment of celestial lightning. His cheerful mood was replaced quickly with worry, and he moved cautiously on the outskirts of her aura. 

“Michael,” he said tentatively as he tended distractedly to a pot of coffee. She glanced back over her shoulder, considering him for only a moment before returning to staring out the window. 

“Are you… alright?” he prodded gently, approaching her and stopping just behind her, finding her shoulders locked and tense. He suddenly wished he hadn’t left her alone with Dagon the night before. What if things hadn’t gone well, and she felt stuck here out of her damn sense of propriety? What if they’d had a fight? He kicked himself for having been so preoccupied with his own indulgences when he knew his friend was in such a new and strange environment. 

Michael hadn’t answered him, just continued to stare blankly out the window. Gabriel placed a hand carefully on her shoulder, and before he knew it, she had spun quickly into his chest and was clinging to handfuls of his sweatshirt, a gasp tearing at her throat. Gabriel's heart lurched at the sudden show of emotion, and he wrapped his arms quickly around her and held her tight. Michael _never_ broke down like this. 

“Oh Michael, what happened? Did she hurt you? I’ll smite her. I'll discorporate her so hard they won’t be able to replace her body…” 

Michael choked on a laugh, sniffling against his chest and shaking her head. “No, it isn’t that. Dagon didn’t do anything,” she mumbled, pulling herself away from Gabriel and furiously wiping tears from her eyes, clearly trying to shove her emotions back into whatever deep pit she normally kept them in. Gabriel held her between his hands, guiding her to sit at the little nook table in the alcove off the kitchen, lowering himself into the seat next to her and positioning himself so he could still rest a hand on her knee in reassurance. 

“Well, that’s not entirely true, Dagon did quite a few things, lovely things, but that's beside the point,” she said with a smile and a blush, even through her glistening eyes and wavering breath. Gabriel couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed with her sharing such things, he was far too concerned about her. She pulled a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of her blazer, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling into it, her hand shaking slightly. Gabriel leaned in to look her in the eyes, his panic starting to get the better of him. He hated seeing Michael like this, and he _needed_ to fix it. 

“Michael, what’s going on? You're kinda scaring me. Of the two of us, _I'm_ the one who's usually in pieces.” 

“I never should have done this,” Michael muttered to herself, sniffling and turning her puffy eyes back toward the window and avoiding Gabriel entirely. 

“What are you talking about? Last night? Dagon? Don't tell me you're feeling guilty. You, the one who practically shoved me out the Gates of Heaven with a _‘go get 'em tiger.’_ ” 

Michael forced out a laugh and turned back to stare down at the handkerchief in her hand, her bottom lip trembling. 

“They’re so fragile, Gabriel. Demons, they… they put up a tough front but they're just… so fragile…” 

Gabriel's heart dropped. How could he be so blind? How had he not realized it sooner? 

“Oh. This is about Ligur, isn’t it?” he asked gently, and Michael's choked off sob was all the answer he needed. 

“Michael I'm sorry, I should’ve realized…” Gabriel said as he leaned forward and pulled her into another hug, her head resting on his shoulder as he pet her hair. 

“I can't do this again, I won’t. I won't hurt like that again, never again. This was all a mistake…” she cried against him, though she blinked in shock when Gabriel pulled back and shook her slightly. 

“You can’t think like that Michael. We've spent our entire existence fearing what could make us happy, because of the threat of punishment. I finally broke after Armageddon. I couldn’t take it anymore, and the Prince was my redemption. You said it yourself, for the first time in a very long time, I'm _happy._ Does Dagon make you happy?” 

“Well… yes, but…” 

“No 'but.’ If she makes you happy, then what possible justification is there for God to punish you for it? Happiness is not a damning offence, it’s salvation.” 

“Dammit, Gabriel, it’s not me I’m worried about! I’ve seen what God damns angels for, and frankly, if She were to damn me for who I love, I'd flip her the bird on my way out of Heaven. I’m scared for Dagon. I'd rather she forget about me if it means she'll be safe.” 

“I don’t think that’s up to you. You don’t get to decide for her just because you’re scared. Trust me, I know what you're feeling. Every time I have to let Beelzebub go back to work, I just want to scream at her not to go. It scares the hell out of me. But I've put certain precautions in place to keep her safe. That’s why you and Dagon are here, remember? So we can train. So we can be prepared if, pardon the pun, all Hell breaks loose. I’m prepared to do anything for her, you know why? Because I would gladly spend those four or five days terrified out of my mind up in Heaven so that I can wake up with her in my arms on the sixth.” 

Michael blinked through her tears, sobering up slightly. She nodded slowly, before returning to wringing the handkerchief in her hands. “You know… you're much wiser than a lot of people give you credit for, Gabriel,” she said quietly, and he grinned bashfully. 

“Nah, I'm not wise. I’m just an idiot who fell hopelessly in love with the Prince of Hell. A Prince who I promised to bring a cup of coffee and is probably getting grumpier as we speak,” he said with a smile, which Michael returned warmly. Gabriel stood and squeezed her shoulder, then approached the coffee pot, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard above it. 

“Why don’t you take Dagon a cup of coffee. Demons aren’t exactly pleasant when they first wake up,” he said, and Michael giggled. 

“Demons aren’t exactly pleasant _ever_ ,” she laughed, standing and tucking her handkerchief away as she accepted the steaming cup of coffee that Gabriel handed her. 

“You’re not wrong,” Gabriel answered with a smile. “Let’s go spar. It always helps you. Gets your mind right, like running does for me,” he suggested, and Michael nodded, her eyes still troubled. Gabriel hesitated a moment when she turned to leave, his smile fading. “Just… think about what I said. You deserve to be happy too, Michael. Don’t let the things that could go wrong stop you from enjoying all the things that could go right.” 

Michael thought over his words for a moment, before a genuine smile graced her features. She turned back and kissed his cheek, her hand squeezing his arm. “Thank you, dove,” she said, quietly exiting the kitchen with Dagon's cup of coffee. He watched her go, still somewhat anxious about her mindset. He stirred some cream and sugar into Beelzebub's coffee, hopeful that Dagon might be able to provide Michael with the kind of comfort that the Prince had for him. 

He returned to his own bedroom, finding Beelzebub sitting up in bed, her brow furrowed. 

“Angel. Are you alright?” she asked, her tone urgent as she rocked forward onto her knees, the sheets gathered nervously to her chest. 

“Yes of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” he said, handing her the cup of coffee and kissing her forehead, then sitting down in front of her and coaxing her practically into his lap. 

“Your… your aura. We're still sharing it. You felt… I don't know. Scared me, 'zz all,” she mumbled into her mug, taking a bashful sip of her coffee. Gabriel pulled her further into his lap, petting her fluffy hair. 

“Right. Sorry. I forgot. It was nothing, just Michael.” 

Beelzebub tensed and leaned back slightly, pulling a frown and making Gabriel chuckle at her. There really wasn’t any face she could make that wasn’t still completely endearing to him, was there? 

“Everything’s fine. I think… things went well between her and Dagon last night. She just…” he hesitated, feeling very protective of Michael in her current state. It was no secret that Beelzebub was not Michael's biggest fan, and even though he hated thinking the worst of his lover, he didn’t want to provide the Prince with any fuel for the theoretical fire. He sighed, biting his lip. If he couldn’t trust Bee, then he couldn’t trust anyone. 

“She um… has some lingering trauma from… losing Ligur.” 

Beelzebub didn’t move for a moment, her eyes searching Gabriel's. She relaxed in his arms, sinking into his embrace and nursing her cup of coffee. “Oh,” she said quietly, taking a long sip. 

“'Oh?’ What does that mean?” he asked tentatively. 

Beelzebub hesitated. “Just surprizzzed.” 

“About?” 

Beelzebub grinned mischievously. “I didn’t think anyone had ever managed to weasel their way into the black abyss where Michael'zzz heart izz supposed to be. Especially a demon.” 

Gabriel pinched Beelzebub's rear, making her jump in his lap and glare at him for sloshing her coffee. 

“Watch it, that’s my best friend you’re talking about. I know she seems unshakeable. For the longest time, I always assumed she was. Until she lost Ligur.” 

Beelzebub was quiet for several moments. “I guess, it'zzzz good then? That we brought them here to spar?” 

Gabriel watched her questioningly. Was she… showing compassion… _for Michael?_

“If she ever allowzzz anything to happen to Dagon, I will personally dismember her.” 

_Nope._

Gabriel chuckled, ruffling Beelzebub's hair and making her growl. “Duly noted. I know you don’t like her very much, but if there is one angel you want protecting your six, it's Michael. She's a damn good warrior.” 

“Bet I could knock her down a peg.” 

Gabriel shook his head with a grin, lifting Beelzebub off his lap and depositing her back onto the plush pillows. He leaned over her and arched an eyebrow, one hand absently caressing the soft skin of her thigh. 

“I have no doubt you could, oh exalted one,” he said sarcastically, slipping just out of her reach as she moved to slap his chest. He settled on the bed at her feet, his fingertips absently tracing her ankle and making her skin prickle with sensation. “But that’s not why they’re here. Michael is here to train _me_ , in case I ever have to fight my way out of Heaven. And Dagon is here to train _you_. There is no need for a pissing contest with Michael. I’d just end up having to pick up the pieces of both my lover _and_ my best friend, and I’d really rather not. I know this is probably an unreasonable request, but could you maybe, _please_ , for me… behave yourself?” 

Beelzebub smiled slowly—a wicked, scheming smile as she slid her foot over the duvet, gently rubbing Gabriel's thigh and nudging up toward his crotch. 

“What’ll you give me?” 

“Really? You’re gonna make me bribe you into minding your manners?” 

“You’re damn right.” 

Gabriel sighed, though his annoyance was diminished by his amused smile. “You’re gonna make me do something humiliating or demented, aren’t you?” 

“No more than the filth that's already rattling around in that hollow skull of yourzzzz,” she teased, pointing at him with her foot. He caught her ankle roughly, his grip softening quickly as he sucked her big toe gently into his mouth, his sparkling eyes bearing down on hers. She shivered, entirely taken aback by the simultaneous intimacy and eroticism of the gesture. 

“Anything you want, my Prince,” he mumbled, kissing up along the arch of her foot and sighing against her skin, mouthing a delicate kiss over her skinny ankle. “I’ll give you everything.” 

Beelzebub groaned dramatically, setting her coffee mug on the bedside table and pulling her ankle away. She crawled forward and straddled her angel, kissing his bottom lip and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Think we've got time for a quickie?” she asked quietly, grinding down into his lap. He grabbed two very intent handfuls of her ass, pulling her flush against him and burying his face in the side of her neck, nipping at the skin he found there. Beelzebub gasped, her claws extending and tickling up the back of Gabriel's neck and into his hair. He couldn’t help the inadvertent buck of his hips, a quiet “ _fuck_ ” slipping past his lips. 

“No,” he groaned plaintively, sounding just as disappointed by that fact as Beelzebub felt. She whined, gripping a handful of his hair to stabilize herself as she tried to slow her breathing. 

“They’re _ahem_ … waiting for us…” Gabriel panted against her neck. 

“Aren’t you alwayzzzz insisting patience is a virtue?” 

“Please Bee. You know I can’t say no to you. Please just… put some clothes on and let’s go. Before I change my mind and we keep them waiting for the rest of eternity.” 

Beelzebub laughed—a beautiful and melodic sound so pleasant that Gabriel was really starting doubt his sanity. How could he deny this beautiful creature _anything?!_

“Azzzz if you have the stamina for eternity,” Beelzebub quipped, snapping her fingers and willing her usual princely attire onto her body. Gabriel pulled back, his hands resting on her hips, fingers digging in only slightly. 

“That sounds like a challenge I'll gladly accept… another day.” 

*** 

Beelzebub followed Gabriel down to the courtyard, admiring the way his ass looked in his war uniform. She was really starting to regret inviting Dagon and Michael to the castle. Were it not for their presence, she'd have that angel right here on the cold stone floor with bite marks all over that delectable ass. 

“Lord Beelzebub,” Michael greeted her with forced politeness while nodding in the direction of Gabriel. “I assume it was your fault that we've been kept waiting? Gabriel was always punctual before you.” 

Beelzebub said nothing, simply stared at Michael's neck and imagined what it would feel like to snap it. 

“Bee,” Gabriel warned, stepping behind her and grazing the inside of her wrist with his fingertips. She sighed deeply, then forced a sickly sweet smile. 

“Apologiezzzz, Archangel. Consider it a lesson in the virtue of Patience,” Beelzebub said, the innocent blue of her eyes thinly veiling the evil beneath. 

Michael was about to snap back at her, but both her and Beelzebub's attention was pulled away when Dagon approached Gabriel and slapped a hand congenially onto his shoulder. 

“Either these two need to fight or fuck, I'm not really sure which. Shall we go grab refreshments while they figure it out?” 

Gabriel couldn’t help his own giggle, even as the Prince and his fellow Archangel looked entirely incensed by the very suggestion. Both grumbled their protestations, but the diversion worked. They stormed off, red faced and fuming to busy themselves with their weapons. Gabriel shot Dagon a grateful grin. “Well done,” he complimented her, surprised by her ingenuity. 

“I’ve had plenty of practice defusing that particular bomb, angel.” 

“Are you talking about Beelzebub? Or Michael?” 

“Yes.” 

Gabriel laughed again, admiring Dagon's strange attire, and the surprising regality with which she carried herself. He had seen her a few times in her more demonic appearance, but here on Earth, she was, dare he say, stunning? Her long hair was quite a bit silkier than it usually was in Hell, and she wore it in a loose mermaid tail braid that draped elegantly down her back. Her eyes were still a startling shade of silver, and they shone in stark contrast to the dark, iridescent fish scale embossed leather armour she wore. Not to mention she had managed to contain Beelzebub _and_ Michael, two of the hottest heads in all of celestial existence. He was starting to understand why Dagon was held such high esteem in Hell. 

“Let’s let the angelzzz go first, shall we Dagon?” Beelzebub asked, twirling her dual wave swords on either side of her before drawing the broad side of one of the blades against a stone pillar, effectively sharpening it. Michael approached Gabriel's side and rolled her eyes at the Prince, then glared over at Gabriel with a look that screamed _why did you have to choose **this** demon?_

Dagon shared a knowing look with Beelzebub, the eye contact so telling that Gabriel was absolutely positive they had exchanged some kind of telepathic communication, because the smirk that graced both demons' lips was nearly identical. Dagon’s eyes dragged slowly down Michael's body and then back up, and she chewed her lip. “That’s a lovely idea, my Lord. Watching a couple prim and proper angels get themselves all sweaty in those _ridiculous_ uniforms… it'll be a good warm-up for the _real_ show,” Dagon drawled, wrapping an arm around Beelzebub’s shoulders and leading her toward the stone benches on the outskirts of the courtyard. 

Michael sighed and stepped out into the courtyard, her energy changing completely when the sun hit her armour. The gold accents on her shoulder pauldrons and wrist gauntlets gleamed in the warm glow, and she flourished her sword out to her side, the blade igniting with Holy flames. 

“The best way to shut up a cocky demon… is to make them eat their words. Even a gluttony demon can choke on them. Come on, dove,” she smiled, lazily circling Gabriel as she rolled her neck and loosened her shoulders. She clicked her tongue at him when he reached for his spear and shield. 

“I know you prefer to fight with the spear but realistically, if you ever _do_ need to fight your way out of Heaven, your flaming sword is the smartest option. It is better for close combat, and can be used to deflect offensive blows.” 

Gabriel sighed and acquiesced, miracling his own flaming sword into his hand. He stepped out into the courtyard, taking a defensive stance and gulping down the hint of nervousness he felt bubbling up in his stomach. Battle was Michael's natural element. She radiated raw strength, so much that her aura bore down on top of his, making his knees tremble. He trusted her, of course, but this was the angel who had cut down Lucifer himself during the rebellion. He'd be crazy not to be at least a little nervous. 

Michael nodded, and continued her lazy stroll around the courtyard, waiting for Gabriel to make the first move. He wasn’t as practiced with the sword as he was with the spear, but it did allow for much quicker movements. The first few parries were a test—to garner Michael's reflexes and test her skill. She easily warded off his first few blows, eventually striking out with a powerful hit from above, their blades clashing with sparks from the intensity. Michael hummed and retreated, folding her hands behind her and dangling her sword from one hand. 

“Very good, Gabriel,” she said, once again resuming her slow circle around him. Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he straightened, confused. He didn’t feel like he'd accomplished much. Their battle was too careful, too tentative. He was still holding back, and so was Michael. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yes of course, that was lovely. If your idea of fighting your way out of Heaven is bringing the Guardians of the Gate a platter of tea and crumpets and asking if they’d be ever so kind as to let you go without a fuss.” 

Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what Michael, I get enough of the sass from my lover, I don’t need it from you too.” 

Michael laughed, sauntering forward and pulling Gabriel's hand away from his face. “I want you to look at where you are. Your feet are still planted in the same place they were when we started. Notice how I have remained circling you. Even when we're not actively sparring, I am still moving. I want you to picture a scenario. Imagine you are in your office, and suddenly every single angel in Heaven knows what you've done. They know about your precious Prince of Hell. After everything the traitors put us through, you've gone and done the same damn thing. Every angel in Heaven is armed with a flaming sword, they’ve already been denied one war, and they’re _angry_. Now their anger is directed at _you_. If they catch you, they will drag you to the Chamber of the Metatron, who will undoubtedly requisition your wings and all your celestial powers, or worse, _fell you_. You have to get out. You can’t use celestial lightning because it's easily traced, as are miracles. You have to get out the old fashioned way. Physically. You _move_ , you understand me? You keep going. Even if it’s in the wrong direction, you don't stop. If you stagnate, you die.” 

Gabriel's heart was hammering unnecessarily in his chest, his sword lowering as terror gripped him. This scenario was getting too real. Too close to something he’d hoped he would never have to experience. 

“I don’t say this to scare you Gabriel. This is why I’m here. To prepare you for the worst. Whatever you think fighting your fellow angels is like, _it is so much worse_. You will see faces you thought you trusted. Your blade will clash with that of angels you've loved. Uriel. Sandalphon. Perhaps they’ll show you leniency. History tells me they won’t. But I _refuse_ to lose you too. I've lost too much in my life, and I want you to be prepared for this scenario. Because I will fall on my sword if anything ever happens to you, dove. Do I make myself clear?” 

Gabriel nodded slowly, his chin quivering as his eyes darted over toward Beelzebub, her face white as a sheet. Her hand gripped Dagon's desperately, the Lord of the Files also petrified and staring at Michael, her earlier jovial attitude long since dissolved. Michael took a deep breath, refusing to acknowledge the two demons as she stepped back, raising her sword once again. 

“Now. Remember, you _know_ these angels. As hard as it is to come to terms with this, it gives you an advantage. Angels, even in the heat of battle, still act like angels. They fight like angels. They still follow the rules of engagement. They don’t fight dirty, they don't manipulate weakness. If it ever comes to it, I want you to abandon every instinct you have toward decorum. Come now, attack,” Michael said, beckoning Gabriel forward. He rallied his courage and rushed her, throwing all his strength and speed into his blows, which Michael still easily deflected. The last thrust of his blade had his wrist caught in her hand and wrenched back, loosening his grip on his sword. Michael yanked his sword away and brought the hilt back up to contact his nose, throwing his head back and making him stumble away. She threw his sword clear across the courtyard, the metal clanking loudly against the stone as he wiped the golden Ichor running down his lips with the back of his hand. He retreated away from her, his eyes darting toward his sword where it had finally come to rest on the ground, then back to Michael. It was an affront to disarm any angel of their divinely gifted flaming sword. They were a bequest from the Almighty, every one forged in Holy fire to channel the divine energy bestowed upon each celestial through Her grace—removing a flaming sword from the hands of an angel was tantamount to insulting God Herself. 

“You cheated,” he mumbled, though he kept his feet moving, as Michael had instructed. 

“I did. That’s the kind of mindset I need you to forget. Now you are unarmed. Angels tend not to fight with their bare hands. What now? Do you give up?” 

Gabriel panted, remembering the visceral and ferocious manner in which Beelzebub had fought when they sparred. She fought with her body, her claws, her mind. She spit insults and used distractions to weaken him. She held nothing back. “No,” he growled. 

He sized Michael up instantaneously. He had very few advantages over her. She is the Warrior angel. She is quicker, smarter, more experienced. She is everything on the battlefield that Gabriel is not. 

But there is one thing she is not. A Seraph. 

Gabriel unfurled all six wings, beating them hard and whipping fierce winds around the courtyard. Michael _beamed_. 

“ _Very_ good, dove.” 

Gabriel rushed her once again, using the weight of his wings and the thrust of wind against them to avoid her blade. Her smile was growing wider by the minute, and sweat began to glisten on her brow. She started throwing more power into her attacks, growing desperate. Gabriel could feel the heat coming from the flames of her sword, the edges of his wings and his uniform singed in places, though she hadn’t managed to land a single damaging blow. When he elbowed her face and returned the bloody nose she’d so graciously bestowed upon him earlier, she spread her own wings, pushing off hard from the ground and attacking from above, a primal scream tearing from her throat. Gabriel used her momentum against her, and instead of trying to block her attack, he went with her. He sidestepped her sword, capturing her arm beneath his and pinning it against his own body. He used the weight of her dive to spin them both, until he had her trapped against his chest, her wings pinned between them. She tried to throw him off by snapping her wings open, but he cocooned them both with his Seraphim wings, hearing her grunt at the pressure as he squeezed the breath right out of her. By the time she tapped his arm to surrender and he unwrapped his wings, he already had her flaming sword in his hand, poised at her throat. 

“Now _that’s_ … how you kick an angel's ass,” Michael laughed breathlessly, stepping away as Gabriel lowered her sword, spinning the hilt in his hand and offering it to her. She took it, still grinning and panting as she retrieved her handkerchief and dabbed at the sweat at her temple, and the blood on her lips. She extinguished the flames from her sword and slid it carefully into the sheath at her hip, tucking her handkerchief away and fixing the few curls of her hair that had dropped loose. She looked the picture of poise and grace, even after such a hearty battle. 

“Alright, your turn, Pufferfish,” Michael directed at Dagon as she approached the two clearly stunned demons, Gabriel departing behind her to go fetch his flaming sword. Beelzebub hopped down from her perch on the back of the bench and approached Michael. Beelzebub puffed up her chest and jutted her jaw up as she squared off with the Archangel, who simply raised an eyebrow and folded her hands in front of herself, unbothered. They stared each other down for a few very uncomfortable moments, until Gabriel flanked Michael, his imploring purple eyes distracting Beelzebub and making her shoulders relax ever so slightly. 

“Michael,” Beelzebub barked, sighing and offering her hand. Michael took it tentatively, and both Dagon and Gabriel audibly gasped. 

“I don’t like you, and I _certainly_ don’t trust you. But I… care very much about that wanker standing beside you and any idiot can see that you do too. So, you know… thank you… for protecting him,” Beelzebub grumbled, the gratitude burning her tongue as it spilled over. Michael smiled victoriously, and the Prince yanked her hand away, disgusted. She grabbed her swords and growled at Michael and she huffed by her, stomping out into the center of the courtyard. 

Michael made a pleased sort of scrunch with her nose, but had the good sense not to mention anything about the Prince's sudden display of honesty. She stepped past Dagon, tapping the demon's bum with her sheathed blade. “Kick her ass for me, would you?” she whispered into Dagon's ear. Dagon chuckled, flourishing her own dual wield blades and allowing her teeth to revert back to their usual demonic points. 

“I’ll do my best.” 

Gabriel took his place at Michael's side and leaned back against a stone pillar as Dagon strutted out into the courtyard, where Beelzebub stood waiting, a delighted fire burning in her eyes. 

“Well. Unlike your sorry excuse for an angel, I know you don’t need any training on how to fight your own kind,” Dagon said as she winked back at Gabriel, who tossed her a middle finger. 

“You’ve probably destroyed more demons since Tuesday than I have in my entire existence. If you ever _do_ have to escape from Hell, I am confident you will be able to do so, strictly based on the fact that you've been able to sneak away from so many council meetings to go get some of that Archangel dick…” 

Dagon hadn’t given the signal to begin their battle, but that comment earned her a swipe from one of Beelzebub's swords that nearly sliced off her braid. Dagon simply laughed. 

“So! Since I’m entirely aware that you can handle yourself in a battle, and I've handled you many times, in many positions, why don’t we just have some fun with this, yeah?” 

Beelzebub lunged forward, annoyance playing over her features as she parried several hits of her own blades against Dagon’s. Dagon was being purposefully incendiary, trying to get a rise out of probably everyone in the courtyard. Beelzebub usually wouldn’t fall for such easy bait, but it provided rage for her to use as fuel. 

She and Dagon practically danced around the courtyard, metal clashing against metal as one would gain the upper hand, only to be pushed back again by the wrath of the other. It was almost reminiscent of the samba that Dagon had instructed the night before. Both Gabriel and Michael stood mesmerized, Gabriel pushing away from the pillar he had been lounging against and Michael retrieving her handkerchief to dab at her neck where it grew moist with sweat. Demons did not fight like angels _at all_. They were primal and vicious, but not without grace. Where an angel held their strength in their rigidity, demons were languid and almost sensual. They moved in a way that no angel could. 

Gabriel reached out and grasped Michael's hand when both demons' wings emerged and they enveloped each other in breaths of Hellfire. The flames licked at their wings and clothes, swaying with their movements and dissipating when the rush of wind against feathers suffocated the fire. Sometime during their battle, both had been disarmed of their weapons, and instead they elected to fight with their claws and teeth, using their own wings to shield themselves when necessary. Neither seemed to care or even notice when they were dealt an injury—the sight of their own blood only spurred them on. It was terrifying and awe-inspiring. 

“I think I have a boner,” Gabriel whispered, expecting Michael to laugh but instead she grunted “me too.” 

Dagon retreated momentarily, to glance back at Michael with a smirk, then pounced and pinned Beelzebub to the ground, both her knees digging in to the Prince's wings. Within an instant, Beelzebub froze, her hands held above her in surrender. Dagon had found Gabriel's dagger strapped to her thigh and now held it poised at Beelzebub's chest. 

Gabriel would have shouted, if his entire body didn’t feel like it had been drained of every drop of celestial energy. 

“It'zzzzz alright, pet. She won’t hurt me. She just wantzzzz to prove who'zzz the biggest fish in the sea,” Beelzebub said, never taking her eyes off of Dagon. 

Dagon sneered down at the Prince, her moment of triumph all too short lived. Beelzebub closed her eyes, her corporation dissolving into millions of flies, swarming around Dagon, and settling back into the shape of her human corporation behind her, the celestial dagger now clutched in the Prince's hand and hovering behind Dagon's back. 

“And who might that be, oh mighty Master of Tormentzzzz?” 

Dagon deflated with a sigh. 

“You, my Lord.” 

“That’zzzz right,” Beelzebub smiled, removing the dagger and pushing Dagon playfully in the back. Dagon stood and bowed graciously to the Prince, before tucking her midnight wings up behind her. Beelzebub sheathed her dagger and approached Gabriel, cracking her neck and swaggering around as if she’d just won some sort of prize. 

Michael approached Dagon, one hand absently admiring the silky black feathers of her wings. “I thought I asked you to kick her ass?” she teased, to which the Prince stuck out her tongue at both of them. 

“I would have better luck begging forgiveness of the Almighty than kicking this one's royal tuchus,” Dagon sassed, her sarcasm and all other possible thoughts wiped clean from her mind when Michael kissed her cheek. 

“Well. Regardless, you're a magnificent fighter,” Michael said, admiring the flustered look on Dagon's face as she wrapped an arm around her waist. 

Gabriel's heart swelled with happiness, pulling his own demon into his arms and kissing the top of her head, even as she squirmed. He knew she hated being showered with affection (really she only hated it in public), but he was in far too good of a mood to care. 

“Tell you what. I know my little demon here…” 

Gabriel grimaced through a laugh as Beelzebub stomped on his foot for calling her 'little.’ 

“And I think she's probably worked up an appetite. I know, Michael. We had best be getting back up to Heaven before we raise any suspicion. But why don’t we rustle up some breakfast, maybe some mimosas?” 

Michael held a hand over her mouth and nearly gagged at the mention of more alcohol. 

“Oooor just breakfast. No alcohol. Come on. Before we all get back to work, we can enjoy each other's company a bit longer, yes?” 

Michael sighed and fidgeted, her resolve breaking entirely when Dagon leveled her with those icy puppy dog eyes. Michael nodded. 

“Wonderful! I'll cook! And I won’t catch the kitchen on fire this time, I promise,” Gabriel said, Beelzebub giggling beside him as they turned to exit the courtyard. Michael remained where she was, even when Gabriel looked back with a questioning glance. 

“You two go ahead. We'll catch up,” Michael called after them, her hand tightening around Dagon's waist. The demon turned towards her, equal parts worry and hopeful. Michael waited until she was sure Gabriel and Beelzebub were out of earshot before turning toward her. 

"Dagon I need to ask you something." 

Dagon simply eyed her with a curious head tilt, but remained silent. 

"If anything ever happens... if they're discovered. If it comes down to a choice—Heaven... or Gabriel. I made my choice long ago. I choose Gabriel. I won't let anything bad happen to him ever again. I'll stand and fight for him. And... for the Prince. So I guess what I'm asking is... will you be by my side?" 

Dagon considered for a moment, glancing back toward the departing forms of Beelzebub and Gabriel. She smiled, a melancholy kind of smile that fogged her silver eyes slightly. "Me? Fight alongside an Archangel? To protect my dumbass boss, who was stupid enough to fall in love with an Archangel herself?" she jabbed, her smile brightening as her head drifted down onto Michael's shoulder. 

"You won't find me anywhere else."

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *looks at a pair of emotionally constipated Archangels* "Well this won't do at all."  
> *Voice of Oprah* "YOU GET A LOVING, SUPPORTIVE DEMON, AND YOU GET A LOVING, SUPPORTIVE DEMON! FUCK IT LET'S THROW IN SOME HEALTHY FUCKING FRIENDSHIPS TO GO WITH IT! Y'ALL ARE GONNA BE OKAY I PROMISE."  
> *Ugly cries*


End file.
